Page 26 of Resurrect Me

“Should I be interrogating you, Mrs. Rountree? I have no problem securing a special room for said interrogation, as well as a set of handcuffs.”

This mother fucker has lost his mind. So, THIS is how victims are treated. Like criminals. This is utter bullshit. I’m fuming. My cheeks are flushed, and my heart is playing the beat of Another One Bites the Dust. I remind myself to stay calm. The angrier you get, the more riled up you get, the more ammunition you give them. The guiltier you look.

I take a deep breath. “No, there’s no need. Yes, we have a history. Orion and me. I met him in high school.”

I want to tell him the guy drugged me and used cult mind control methods he learned from Charles Manson, but I keep that to myself. I want to tell him the guy manipulated me into unspeakable acts, on occasion involving innocent people. But giving him that information makes me seem more suspicious. Why would I also confess to the crimes I committed in my teen years that I thought no one would ever find out about?

“And what was your relationship with Mr. Starkey?” He asks. His cold black eyes stare straight through me.

“Oh. A normal teenage boyfriend-girlfriend type thing, I guess.” I sip at the coke again. Trying to play it nonchalant.

“Mm hmm,” he peers down and lifts a sheet of paper from the table. Then pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Is it also true that Mr. Starkey ran a Satanic cult at that time? Oh, between the years two-thousand and two-thousand-three?”

“Cult? Hmm,” I say and take another sip of my coke. It’s time to lawyer up.

“Isn’t that the same time you were dating Mr. Starkey?” He sets down the paper and glares at me. His eyelid twitches.

I stand up, button my sweater, and turn for the door. “We are done here, Detective. It’s time for me to go home and get some rest.”

“I didn’t say we were done,” he exclaims and stands from his seat.

“Are you holding me here?” I ask him and reach for the doorknob.

“No, we can’t do that,” he says.

“Then I’m leaving.” I turn the knob and step out. But before I can shut the door the Detective says, “might want to stick around, Mrs. Rountree.”

I look at him. “I wouldn’t leave anyway Detective.”

I’m getting a lawyer. Because now, not only am I the victim and on someone’s hit list, but I’m a number one suspect in a murder case. Unless my stalker decides to unmask and turn himself in.

Chapter 16

Tacy

Someone knocks on the door, and I open it to see Declan standing there with a bouquet of pink tulips and a concerned look on his face. The fucking slimeball. His brand-new red Porsche sits in my driveway, right behind my car. Blocking me in. That’s okay, because my gun is loaded and stuffed into the back of my pants. A girl can’t be too careful these days with all the kidnappers and evil people running around.

I squeeze a tight-lipped smile at him and wait for him to talk first.

“Tacy. I heard what happened. Are you okay?” He offers me the bouquet, and I take them reluctantly.

“Oh, I’m just peachy, Declan. Who told you?”

“Sheriff Bouchard. You know I’m friends with the entire department, being the governor and all,” he says and flashes a fake smile at me. There’s something lurking behind his eyes. A shadow. A lie. He steps one foot onto the porch.

“Right, the Sheriff. Of course,” I say and place my hand on the doorframe. All the while thinking about the cold hard steel pressed against the skin of my back.

“May I come in?” He asks and steps up onto the porch with both feet. Then casually strolls towards me.

I step into the threshold and block him. “No, you may not.” I clutch the stems of the tulips with my other hand.

His brows furrow and he takes two steps back.

“Why not? What’s going on, Tacy? Is someone inside?” He cranes his neck to the right and peering over my shoulder and into the living room.

“Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do. He’s big and mean and he’ll rip out your fucking throat with his teeth,” I say and fold my free arm behind me. I stroke the handle of the gun…

Declan’s mouth drops open, and he takes another step back, almost falling backward down the steps. He grabs the porch pillar and rights himself. “Why are you acting like this, Tace? What did I do to you?”

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